


Mr Newsham

by AlElizabeth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 18:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15200387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlElizabeth/pseuds/AlElizabeth
Summary: Teen!Chester. Sam is terrified of his English teacher, Mr. Newsham. Dean finds out why.





	Mr Newsham

Sam couldn't take his eyes off the clock ticking away the minutes until the bell rang to signal the end of the day. He didn't even hear what Mr. Newsham was saying as he sat at the edge of his desk, legs crossed casually.

Sam prayed the English teacher would let him go and not ask him to stay behind. Just the thought of having to stay after class again made Sam sick to his stomach.

Even though he had been watching, anticipating, the bell, Sam still jumped when it rang, he was so tense. Grabbing his books off his desk, he started for the door before any of his classmates.

"Oh, Sam," Mr. Newsham called from the front of the room, "Can you stay back for a few minutes? I want to discuss your homework assignment with you."

Sam's heart was galloping and he stopped where he stood. His classmates jostled past him, chatting and laughing, unaware of what was about to happen to the boy once they had cleared out of the classroom.

Sam sat down at the closest desk, not looking at the English teacher. He listened to the sound of Mr. Newsham's shoes as he crossed the room to the door and closed it, the sound of students in the hallways muffled. A hollow thud told Sam the English teacher had drawn the blind over the window in the door- every classroom had them to deter students in the halls from distracting their friends- and a pause as Mr. Newsham waited for the majority of the student body to clear out.

Then, his footsteps approached Sam and stopped right in front of him. There was the sound of a zipper being pulled down.

Sam thought he was going to cry.

"Please," he whispered, "Just let me go."

SPN

Dean checked his watch and looked up at the kids streaming out of the school. Where was his brother?

"Late again, Sammy," Dean muttered, "What is this, the fourth time in a week and a half?"

The older Winchester waited for another minute before straightening up from where he was leaning against the Impala and decided he'd go into the school and drag his brother out- kicking and screaming if he had to.

Pocketing the Chevy's keys, Dean entered the school just as the last stragglers were exiting.

Peering around the hallway, Dean tried to remember where his brother's last class of the day was.

Oh yeah, it was English; Dean recalled and headed down a deserted hall.

Arriving at Room 2B, Dean paused. The door was closed and the blinds drawn. Glancing down the hall, he saw that many of the other doors stood ajar, teachers visible as they tidied their rooms for the night.

"Sammy?" Dean spoke his brother's name as he turned the doorknob and stepped into the room.

At first he didn't see anyone. Then, turning his head to the left, he caught sight of his brother and the English teacher. Mr. Newsham was sitting at one of the student's desk and Sam was kneeling in front of him and-

Dean felt anger engulf him as the realization of what he was seeing registered.

Sam, having heard the door open, turned his head, a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face and jumped up as though he had been electrocuted. He dashed past Dean, who didn't even try to stop him, and into the hallway.

Dean stared at the English teacher who was hastily trying to zip up his fly.

"You," Dean ground out, his hands curling into fists, "You sick, sadistic son of a bitch!"

"You perverted bastard!" Dean shouted, wanting to pummel that stupid, apologetic expression on Mr. Newsham's face into mush.

The teenager grabbed the front of the English teacher's shirt.

"Don't!" the man managed to cry before Dean smashed his face into the desk, once, twice, again.

Sitting the man up, Dean bared his teeth at the mashed nose, the blood and the black eyes.

"If you ever touch my brother again," Dean leaned forward as he spoke, hissing the words, "I will fucking kill you."

Releasing his grip on the man's shirt, Dean turned and left, closing the door as he went, searching for his brother.

Out of instinct, he stopped at the closest boys' room and stepped inside.

"Sammy?" he called his brother's name softly.

For a second he thought maybe Sam had gone out to the car, but then one of the stalls opened and his brother stepped out, his face red and tear-stained.

"Sammy," Dean hurried forward and grabbed his brother in a tight hug.

"I'm… I'm s-sorry," Sam sobbed against his brother's shirt.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," Dean told him, squeezing him hard, "Nothing."

"I… I… do…" Sam stammered, crying even harder, "I sh-should have to-told you and… and… D-Dad."

"Shhh," Dean murmured, closing his eyes, wishing he could get the sight of his brother on his knees in front of that man out of his memory but it seemed as though it was etched into his brain.

"H-He said nuh-no one would b-believe me," Sam whimpered, "Th-that y-you all think I was l-l-l-lying."

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean whispered, "It'll be okay. You won't have to go back to school tomorrow. You won't have to go back until we leave town."

Sam clutched his brother tightly, shaking. Reaching down, Dean picked his brother up like he used to do when Sam was younger, and carried him out of the bathroom and down the hallway, bridal-style. He'd come back later for Sam's belongings but right now he needed to get his brother to their motel room.

Sam wasn't crying anymore, his face was still red though, and snot flowed sluggishly from his nose. He was staring straight ahead with a sort of glazed expression.

Dean hoped the poor kid hadn't been traumatized but he wouldn't bet on it. He set Sam into the front passenger's seat and closed the door before walking around to the driver's side.

Climbing in behind the wheel, Dean paused before starting the engine. Reaching out, he took his brother's hand and squeezed it gently, reiterating, "It's gonna be okay, Sammy."

Sam, in a tone tinged with relief, murmured, "I know, Dean. You and Dad will make it all okay."

Dean smiled sadly and started the engine.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos or comments are greatly appreciated.


End file.
